The one shall arise
by LyraeMystery
Summary: Loki died. He was sure he did when Thanos ripped his heart out. But well, he guessed he was wrong when he woke up on Midgard as a magical baby. Watch as he returns to Hogwarts and lives through the life of the Chosen one. But not everything is as simple as it looks and not everything of Loki managed to escape Thanos' grasp. The one to hold infinity shall arise. Main Tom/Harry
1. Chapter 1

Hey !

Guess who decided to start a new story?

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and the Avenger/Thor are not mine

Infos :

-Pairing: main Tom/Harry (Loki), mention of Godric/Salazar and one-sided Tony/Harry ( Loki) on Tony's part. Perhaps I'll add a bit of Thor/Loki in the late chapter

-The universe: This story will mainly focus on the Hogwarts years, with the Avenger afterwards

-Post: I'll try to post as soon as possible but it can take time

-Other questions? Feel free to ask!

* * *

 _The one to hold infinity shall arise..._

* * *

Thor Odinson looked at the big green and gold book sitting on his brother's desk. Slowly, he traced the golden letters of the cover with his fingers.

LOKI

No Odinson, no title, not even Laufeyson, just Loki.

According to the Midgardian calendar, we were in 2011, six months after the fall of Loki Silvertongue in the Void.

* * *

Since that fateful day, Thor had counted every hour, every second spent without his brother by his side, without his familiar presence in the Asgard hall.  
Nobody here understood how he really felt. Asgardians were just happy the Liesmith was gone, the Warrior three had stayed by his side for a month but thought he was going to forget his brother just like that and his parents were too caught up in their own grief to try to speak with him.

All in all, Thor was alone, hurt, and everybody just seemed to believe that he would be perfectly fine after watching his little brother die.

So now, he just stayed in his room all day, thinking of the old times where the sun was bright and Loki laughing at his side, his emerald eyes sparkling with mischiefs. Their parents were here too, smiling softly at them while trying to look annoyed by the antics of the youngest.

Now that he remembered, Thor knew that that hasn't happened in quite a long time, with him spending more and more time with his friends instead of his brother, Odin starting to favour his eldest without ever noticing and Frigga passing less time with the black-haired prince now that they were older.

All, in their way, had abandoned Loki, and now he could remember how hurt the other had looked when he had left with Sif to practice, how he had always craved for Odin's affection and how he had begun to leave his room less and less.

And Thor hadn't noticed a single thing until it was too late and the other was letting go. Not once had he tried to speak with his brother.

How could he even call him that? Loki was right, Thor wasn't his brother.

Asgard's golden prince wasn't worthy of the love of Loki, frost giant or not.

" Never doubt I love you."

* * *

So now here he was, starring at a green book when he himself had never even opened one if he wasn't being forced.

To everybody, the book might look beautiful, a work of art really, but for Thor, who knew what it really was, it was so much more.

This book was Loki, as much as Loki could be a book.

It was all his memories, all that made him who he was, and now that he was dead, it would be where his original portrait was.

Only the people with great destiny had one. Thor had one, Odin and Frigga too, and they were all (to Thor original dismay) books.

The Elf's weren't books but trees, where leaves were memories, Dwarf's were big diamonds like gems, fire giant's were magma stone...

Every race has their own way of saving great people's memory. Except for Midgard, that's it.

Thor had never heard of this sort of thing in the realm of Yggdrasil's roots.

But well, the golden prince hardly ever listened in his and his brother's classes, and hadn't Loki spoken of books too? He couldn't remember.

The book was closed by a golden snake circling a little version of Yggdrasil, on top of the green leather.

Thor carefully touched it.

Will it open?

When he and Loki were children, the last was always the one to open it, slowly caressing and hissing to the snake until his emerald eyes snapped open and he moved.

Then he would show his big brother his memories and they would laugh together.

But then they grew up and Loki hid his book away.

What should he do?

Unsure, the Thunderer began gently stroking the scale, waiting for any kind of reaction.

Like all these years ago, the green eyes opened and considered him.

Did Loki do something so as to have his book open to Thor like that? Certainly.

Automatically, the oldest went at the end, to the portrait.

He needed to talk with Loki.

But the page was white as snow except for elegant, green letters in the centre of the sheet:

Etiamemoriam.

What was that? A spell? And where was Loki?

Thor frowned.

"Etiamemoriam? Loki are y-" he didn't finish his sentence.

Everywhere around him, colours were blurred, like in the Bifrost, and before he could try to escape, he was back in the room.

Except he wasn't alone anymore.

Loki

"Hello brother" the younger said with a soft voice.

He looked pale, ill, and his eyes were duller than normal.

"Loki I-" started Thor.

"Before you try to speak with me, I have to tell you that this thing is not really me. This is nothing more than a memory that I made after your banishment. As such, I won't be able to talk back and I hope that you will listen to what I have to say. Oh, and before I forget, if you're the first one to find my book, could you give it to mother and father when I'll be finished? I have a message for them too."

Loki stopped, looking thoughtful before saying :

"Well, I guess there's so much words can do... If I want you to really understand, I 'll have to show you... Everything began on 31 of July 1980."

Once again, the colours seemed to blur around Thor, and a few seconds after, he was standing on the rainbow bridge.

Near the edge stood Loki, wawing with a smile to a younger (brasher, meaner and more arrogant ) version of the Thunderer.

It took a full minute for Thor to remember what had happened this day.

He and the Warriors three ( mostly him anyway) had decided to go on a quest on Vanaheim. If he remembered well, he had passed the full month under the haze of alcohol, courting every maiden that wasn't detestable.

And if it was the 31 of July, well...

It meant that once again, Thor had forgotten his brother's birthday.

He dropped his head with shame but there was no one to see him.

When he looked back at the younger prince, Loki was starring at the Void, his emerald eyes empty. He stayed like that a few minutes and Thor began to ask himself why he was showed that, but then he saw a shadow slowly creeping behind his brother.

It was a tall person, possibly a man, his head hidden by a black hood.

The form seemed to pause briefly, deeply in thoughts, but then, before the Loki in the memory could see him, He pushed him.

For Thor, it was liked time itself had stopped.

He saw Loki's widen in shock and fear, his hands reaching desperately for something solid.

If the god hadn't been caught while thinking, he could have certainly helped himself with his magic, but now, he had been too lost in his thought to think through his fear.

His mouth parted and formed a perfect "O", and then time started again and Loki was falling into the Void.

Thor screamed but nobody heard him.

Everything went black.

First, he thought the memory was finished or something like that, but then he heard the voice.

"Thor? Mother ? Father ?! THOR! SOMEBODY HELP! please..." the last word was nothing but a broken whisper.

The colours came back and the golden prince saw the ground come near quick...

With a sickening crack, Loki laid still on the hole his fall formed, his face twisted in pain before fainting.

When he closed his eyes, the strange grey creature came and picked him up roughly.

Time passed and now an imposing form was standing over Loki, blue eyes flaring in anger.

Strangely, this was the only thing Thor could make out the thing's appearance.

It looked like someone had put a blur on the being.

"Are you really sure you don't want to serve me, runt? I could give you what you ever wished for, respect, power and a realm to rule."

"I don't care about your false offer. I already have what you are promising me and I never wanted to rule anything." answered coldly Loki.

"Well... let's see what you'll answer in, let say... a few years."

And with that, the younger prince was dragged away and everything went to black once more.

"So..."

Thor turned around to face the older version of his brother.

"After this, well... things weren't good and I would prefer if we could just go to the next memory... Oh, and before I forget, the reason because you can't see ... Him, is because of his emprise on my mind. I have enough power now to make that memory but I still can't show him to you or name him, I'm sorry Thor..."

With that, the scene shifted again.

Thor was in the same place as before and the being was sitting on a floating throne. He made a gesture to the nearest grey creature and suddenly, two other came in, dragging a bloody corpse.

At first, the Thunderer didn't recognise his brother or see that he was actually still alive, with all the blood, burns, cuts and bones that just looked wrong.

But here he was, his chest still raising with difficulty, catching a raspy breath.

"I see you are in a good health. Have you considered my offer? Where is the gauntlet ?" asked the being.

"I... will... never... tell YOU anything !" managed to say Loki.

"Too bad. I guess I'll just have to force you. You never had the choice anyway." Blue eyes burned as he took the younger god by the air to roughly put him on his back.

He then made a blue stone appeared from nowhere, held it high and...

ripped Loki's heart out.

Somehow, the younger's eyes found his brother's and looked at him in pain and shock.

"Thor... ?" he whispered.

Then he tried to breathe without success, blood gushing from the open wound like a river.

finally, before Thor could realise what had happened, Loki stopped moving and his eyes closed.

The thunderer felt as if he was torn between two things, as if the memory was breaking apart, but then, the other Loki's hand on his shoulder anchored him here.

"And now ..."

The being trusted the stone where the heart had once stood.

Immediately, it looked as if the younger god had been electrocuted and his eyes snapped open, but unlike before, they were an icy blue, the same blue as the stone that replaced his heart.

A sort of blue wave, coming out from the stone, covered the broken body, the bruise, the burns and broken bones, leaving being ivory skin.

Older Loki 's voice startled him.

"Now, if you want to understand better what happened, you must now that... He has the control over time itself. He can make it do everything he wants and so..."

Their surrounding changed once more.

"we're back in 1980."

Like in the first memory, they were standing over the Bifrost...

Thor saw the younger, more carefree Loki wave at his younger self, riding with the Warrior three...

They left, and Loki was starring in the Void...

The figure came...

Seemed to pause behind Loki, like they were fighting against themselves...

they pushed.

They watched Loki fall and then they took their hood off while turning on their heel.

With cold, icy blue eyes, Loki walked away.

* * *

"I wasn't myself when you were banished, neither was I before. I was too weak to resist the stone hold, or at least die trying." the younger sneered. "I am beyond salvation, I can't be saved, whatever you try. Him, however..."

With those words, a memory, like a photo came out.

It showed a boy, a baby, with bright emerald eyes and a mop of black hair.

"Not everything of me survived my ... death. This part came out on the 30 July of 1980, Midgard calender, when my heart was ripped out of my chest. You can't save me, that's not even a possibility, but you can save him, Thor. He's on Midgard."

The Thunderer nodded.

"But promise me something Thor Odinson, if my counterpart is happy where he is, you won't rip him away from the people he loves. "

Once again, the other nodded, not feeling capable of speaking and knowing his brother couldn't hear him.

"Now, I have to -" suddenly Loki froze.

"No no no this can't happen now! I am losing control! Save him, Thor, SAVE HIM !"

The younger prince stopped yelling, his face a blank mask.

Blue eyes swept around the room for a moment, looking confused, before the thing in his brother body turned around and left, the memory stopping right away.

Thor was left alone, in his brother's bedroom, holding a green book.

"Guards, can you tell me where are Mother and Father ?"

* * *

 _An : Hope you liked it!_

 _In the next chapter, we'll have more of Loki, I swear!_

 _Ps : review can help the author write faster, really!_


	2. Avada Kedavra

_Here's the new chapter!_

 _I would like to thank everyone who posted a review, favourited or followed this story, it really motivated me!  
_

* * *

Was he a coward?c

Thor certainly felt like one at this moment.

After his encounter with the memory of his brother, he took the book and went directly to his parents quarter, determined to finally speak with them about Loki.

But he didn't.

When he saw his father mournfully gazing outside and his mother tending to a golden rose given by the younger prince, Thor knew the words just weren't going to leave his throat.

Instead, he just posed the book on one of the tables where they would see it and stormed out of the room, out of the golden halls, wishing the Bifrost wasn't broken so he could leave Asgard too.

* * *

When Frigga saw the green book sitting innocently on the golden table from Vanaheim, she immediately knew what it was.

With tears in her blue eyes, she took it and strolled the snake's head. A few seconds after, it opened at the page where the portrait usually stood.

This time, however, it was blank, except the elegant writing of her son.

"Etiamemoriam" the All-mother softly said and then...

"Loki."

"Mother." answered the figure. "as you know, I am only a memory, made after Thor's banishment. I wish I could speak with you for hours but alas, my time is coming near and I still have to make my message for Father and Thor."

"I understand," she answered, even if she knew she wouldn't be heard.

"Whatever happened before you got this book, I assure you that it wasn't your fault. It's the fault of the being who took me away and enslaved me with an infinity stone."

Frigga gasped.

"You can't do anything to help me, but a part of me managed to escape on Midgard. If my calculus are right, he must be 31 now. And before you try to save the part of me that is truly beyond salvation, I have to tell you it'll be for nothing..."

With this words, a blue wave passed over the black-haired prince, showing is true state.

Where before stood a healthy and mighty prince now was a broken man, a bloody shell of himself.

"I wasn't allowed to heal myself, to make sure I didn't escape the stone hold..."

And now she understood what he meant when he spoke about a stone.

Beside the burns, broken bones and other injuries on the younger's body, his chest glowed a sickly blue light.

"I don't think I'm going to make it mum."

When Frigga All-Mother exited the memory, she looked like she'd seen a ghost.

She just handed the book to her husband before leaving for her garden, her eyes once more filled with tears.

* * *

"Father." This time, Loki's voice was colder, harsher, but the familiar name rolled on his tongue none the less.

Odin turned around to face the memory of his younger son...

Only to openly gape when he saw icy blue skin and red blood eyes.

"I knew." continued the Jottun "For quite a long time, really, I was only a thousand years old when I found out I was a monster. It was quite a shock. You never did ask me why I went to Midgard, did you? And afterwards, you were too absorbed in punishing me and keeping me away from those I loved to notice something was wrong weren't you ?!" He said, his voice slowly rising.

"YOU kept me in nothing more but a GOLDEN CAGE for TWO HUNDRED YEARS! YOU KEPT ME AWAY FROM MY HOME, FROM MY NATURE! Why...? TEEL ME! WAS I EVER A SON TO YOU ?! I-" suddenly he stopped, took two long, trembling breath, before letting out a dry chuckle.

"Wow, I really start to sound like the stone now... Long story short, an enemy of Asgard has been .. possessing me for over 30 years with an infinity stone. I know, that's not the more pleasant experience and I'm not very happy about it and well, I feel like I'm repeating myself for two hours now or so... I still haven't made the memory for Thor and I guess you're going to ask him why he suddenly wants to go to Midgard anyway..."

Midgard? What was on Midgard? thought the All-Father.

"I just wanted to tell you, I guess, that I am truly sorry for what happened and that I forgive you for the whole frost giant business. It was difficult but I came in term with it hundred years ago. However, I don't forgive you for something, and I think I never will."

Odin frowned, wondering what he could have done that was worse than hiding his son's identity.

"You took my children away from me, or more precisely, you took me away from my children. I had found love on Midgard, all those years ago, I had founded a family. I had two boys of my own blood, two other that I adopted with my Midgardian name and a girl who was practically mine. I won't even mention the one I loved, and before you even TRY to mention that they were Midgardian and that they would have died in a blink of eyes, think! They were WIZARD! THEY WOULD HAVE LIVED AT LEAST TWO HUNDRED YEARS! And- and.. the boys were MINE. They were true Lokison. I had sealed the power in their blood away, waiting for them to be in their twenties before giving them what was rightfully theirs, but YOU TOOK THAT AWAY FROM ME AS WELL! I COULD HAVE HAD MY CHILDREN AT MY SIDE, AT LEAST, BUT YOU TOOK THEM AWAY FROM ME! I- I... excuse me from my outburst father, but please, don't repeat the same errors with my other self. I don't know how I would react if you were to ever try to take me those I love again."

And with those last words, Loki turned on in heels and the memory stopped, leaving a shocked Odin alone in his apartment, wondering how he could have messed up that much.

* * *

Slowly, Loki opened his eyes. He was dead, wasn't he? He sure remembered dying. Blinking, he tried to distinguish his surrounding.

Strangely, everything was blurred, image and sound.

"- boy! A perfectly healthy little boy!" said the first voice, the one of a cheerful sounding woman.

"Then why isn't he screaming? Is he okay?" said another voice, a man this time.

Were they talking about him? Was he... a baby? How? Why? He just died for Odin's sake! Couldn't he rest for more than one second before being thrown in unknown situation?

"That's strange but I can assure you that he's perfectly fine, he's breathing and everything seems alright. Do you want to see his magical core now? It can give an indication of the future power of this young wizard!" Now that his vision was starting to get better, he noticed that the woman was all in white, with blond hair and a bright smile.

The man seemed in his twenties by Midgardians standard ( which were much easier than Asgardians one ). He had black hair which looked like gravity didn't work anymore and thin, silver glasses.

He was twisting a stick in his hands.

The last woman, who was lying on the bed, looked exhausted but was beautiful none the less: she had red, flame-like hair and bright green eyes, who looked almost like his own, except they were more of a forest green than an emerald one, like his.

"Of course." the last one answered to the healer's question.

The blond took a stick out of her robe and start waving it in an intricate pattern.

After a few seconds, a ball of light raised from Loki's chest and started expanding and hovering above the child.

"By Merlin, that's the first time I see a baby's core this big! Even some adults are smaller !" gaped the healer.

"He was born under Loki's sigil, and it looks like his future patron god gave him a benediction." said the man.

A benediction? Really? He didn't even have anymore a tenth of his normal power! And under Loki's sigil, really? Only Midgardian's wizard revered him like that! Was he to be mocked even in death?

Wait…

Sticks. Magical core. A man using magic. A healer without the healer rune. Glasses. People talking about his benediction.

Not knowing of the baby's epiphany, the blond suddenly yelled: " I forgot! I'm so sorry! How are you going to name this young wizard here ?"

"Harry." answered the redhead. "Harry James Potter."

He wasn't dead.

He was back on Midgard.

"I'm sorry madam, you've been really helpful, but we can't let you run around and tell everyone about our little boy. I hope you understand. Obliviate!" said the man, his father apparently.

What did he do to piss off the Norns that much already?

* * *

"Lily! Lily!"

"James? What happened? Is Harry alright?" yelled the redhead, bustling in the room.

"Yes, yes of course, why would you think anything else?" at that, the woman seemed ready to list all the time he endangered their son but he cut her before " Now, look !" James said, pointing at a black puppy with stormy grey eyes who was making pitiful noises.

Not far, their one-year-old son was happily flying around his room, whooping each time he came near to their poor cat.

"So what?" she said, focusing once more on her husband. "You pranked Sirius, what's new about that ?"

"The fact that I didn't! Padfoot was messing around with Harry, calling him Bamby and mini-James. I think it pissed him off a bit because next time I knew, Siri was a puppy whining on the ground and Prongslet was terrorising the cat."

"Oh. Ooooohh. I guess it makes sense. But why hadn't him changed back to his human form?" asked Lily.

"I think he can't."

"Too bad for him then."

When little Harry came hurling into the room behind the cat, James could have sworn that he looked a bit too satisfied for a one-year-old.

* * *

Lilly waved her wand, making multicoloured butterfly appear everywhere in the room.

With a smile, she watched as Harry frowned in concentration and raised his hands, green and golden butterfly flying out of it. With a movement of his children, the child made the creatures Walz in a complicate choreographer.

Her baby was such a special little boy, she thought when he fell asleep in her arms.

* * *

It was strange for Loki to be once more in Midgard after a thousand years. Of course, he had continued to learn their cultures and the new magic they developed, having even spent some time on the planet itself, but not once, since last time, had he staying longer than a few month in the same place like he was doing now.

And above all, not once had he felt loved like that, fully and unconditionally.

He often felt bad for cheating his adoptive parents like that and stealing their real son from them, but strangely, sometimes he thought of never telling them and playing the part of a child for all of their life.

But surely he wouldn't do that. After all, Thor would come for him sooner or later now?

But as the month passed, he began to felt less and less sure about the arrival of his brother. When the first year passed, he knew he wouldn't come.

At first, he was shocked. How could they not come?!

After, he tried to deny it. The people who had been his family for two thousand years wouldn't abandon him now, would they? Right?!

In third came the anger, the terrible, red anger that raised a turmoil inside of him. They dared! After everything he made for Asgard, they just threw him out of their life like that!

Then arrived the sadness. Strangely enough, it surprised him. How it came upon him like that, how everything was suddenly dark and gloom. He was never going to see them again was he?

At last, he just felt resigned. The turmoil had settled, the sadness went away... the only thing that stayed was emptiness. A void had opened inside of him and swallowed everything. How fitting.

That's when the dreams came.

Sometimes they were good, featuring him and Thor as children before they slowly broke apart. Sometimes, they made him relive his death in a loop, feel his heart being ripped out.

Sometimes, they showed him the past, they showed him Godric, Rowena and Helga, in Hogwarts along with his children. Sometimes it was Arthur and his knight who were laughing at his side.

These dreams were the worst, along with those about Thor.

He would wake up to find that his friends and his children were dead. He would wake up to find himself on Midgard with two wonderful people but away from his brother.

Alone, in his crib, he would stare silently at the ceiling.

The mortals would find him in the same position, with tears on his cheeks when they came to check on him in the morning.

They didn't understand but they never thought it was his fault.

Sometimes, Loki wondered why.

* * *

It was Haloween, the house was decored and James was jumping around, looking more like a child than the 15 months did.

"Why couldn't we invite the Marauder already?" he asked.

"You know why James. Peter is staying with his ill mother, Sirius said something about a music concert somewhere and... well, you know what Dumbledore said about Remus." with the last word, she flushed with embarrassment.

"You know how I fell about that Lils ... I don't think we should keep out Moony like that. You know like me that he would never betray us!"

"I know, but I don't want to tempt fate, we're just so happy right now..." sighed the redhead.

After the conversation, they began to take tour in entering Harry, making things appear out of thin air and watching him repeat the feat without a wand while wearing a big smile on his cute little face.

But then...

BOUM

"LILY, IT'S HIM! TAKE HARRY AND RUN, I'LL HOLD HIM BACK!" yelled James, posting himself at the door.

There was an explosion, and Lord Voldemort entered the house. Without a single word, he started duelling the younger man.

He fought with everything he had to protect his wife and child, but the room was not wide enough to allow him all the transfiguration he usually used in his duels.

That's why he couldn't protect himself against the green light of the Avada Kedavra hurling his way.

His eyes opened wide and a second after he was dead.

Lord Voldemort took the stairs and explode the door of the nursery.

"Stand aside silly girl" he hissed coldly. Whatever people thought, Lord Voldemort always kept his promise.

She refused, not once, but three times.

By three time, the most powerful Dark Lord the world has ever knew tried to spare a muggle blood, a Mudblood, only for her to refuse.

'Take me, not Harry, not my son!'

He could apply to her first request, but Harry Potter must die, so said the prophecy.

He pointed his wand at the child, bright emerald eyes staring deep into his own red ones.

* * *

Loki did not really understand what happened.

One instant, they were happy and laughing, the second after, James was dead, Lily was dead and the snake-like man was pointing his wand at him.

He knew the curse "Lord Voldemort" has used very well. Why? He was the one who invented it.

That's why he knew he would survive it.

The curse was made to "free" the soul of the body and send it into Valhalla.

However, if the body and the soul were tightly linked together, the curse would only cause pain.

When Loki had made it, he knew that every Asgardian, frost giant or anything remotely stronger than a Midgardian could survive it, if cast by a normal wizard.

But if the wizard was powerful enough, he would succeed in temporarily killing his "godly" subject.

In the case of Loki, he was no longer in his own body, but in the body of an infant, a mortal infant.

Immediately after he understood where he was, he had started putting his magic in his body, slowly enhancing it.

However, his body was still not at the stade of an immortal one by now, and Tom Marvollo Riddle was one of the most powerful wizard alive, if not the most

Said wizard sighed, before saying.

"You know, I don't particularly want to kill you. Your parents, perhaps, they were on the other side of the war after all, but you, no. Killing magical children, how far I have fallen." he shook his head. "But I can't allow to survive and defeat me, I'm going to save the Wizarding World and you're sacrifice won't be forgotten...

Farewell, Harry Potter.

Avada Kedavra !"

The green light, the exact same shade than his eyes, touched him on his forehead and immediately killed his body.

However, the backslash of the death of an Asgardian and of the struggle of Loki's soul send the curse flying right back at Voldemort's head.

Like James Potter before himself, he opened his eyes wide before being disintegrated by the sheer force of the spell.

Ripped out of his body, the soul broke in two peace, one who managed to flee and one the hidden in the now once more living body of Harry Potter, more particularly in a bolt-shaped scar.

And Loki?

Well...

* * *

 _Hope you liked this chapter! Since I'm in holidays, it should be easier to write and I already started the next chapter :)_

 _Its title would be: Cold as Ice_

 _And don't forget to review!_


	3. Cold as Ice

_So heeeeyyyyyyy_

 _The new chapter is here at last! And aaaaaabsolutly not late! I don't know what you're talking about_

 _Thanks to anyone who reviewed, favourited or followed this story!_

 _Oh, and sorry if you see any errors..._

 _What can I say?_

 _I'm french and only have high school English education, err..._

 _*cough*_

 _And also, I'm looking for a beta for this story, anyone's interested?_

* * *

Harry James Potter was not a normal child, he always knew it.

To begin with, he slept in a cupboard, thanks to his uncle, and was more often hurt than not. Apparently, he was a freak and freaks couldn't sleep in normals rooms like normals people and needed to be beaten so that the freakiness didn't infect other people.

Uncle Vernon always said that he should thank them for giving him food (once a day if he was lucky), somewhere to sleep (a dark little cupboard under the stairs), clothes (Dudley's cast off which were five-time his own size) and for trying to beat the strange things out of him (because three broken ribs and a torn ankle was so going to help him).

When he first arrived, his Aunt had tried to make his uncle give him Dudley's spare room but the man hadn't relented and he slept in the dark little room for the past four years.

It wouldn't have been so bad for Harry himself, he never feared the dark or the spiders anyway, but something in him screamed that it wasn't of him, that his uncle wasn't worthy of him and that one day, he would show the stupid whale of much more than him Harry was.

Of course, the child never said anything to his Aunt's husband, because even if it wasn't really difficult to get food, it still was rather unpleasant to get cloistered in a cupboard for a month.

Petunia also didn't like Vernon's little session with him. Each time, she would try to stop him, speaking about people who were watching, but after the first five-time, the man has stopped caring altogether and didn't stop himself from breaking his bones.

* * *

Second, he was highly intelligent, more so than anyone thought.

Since he could remember, Harry had always understood everything in the world, even things other people couldn't even begin grasp. Come on, what was so hard about relativity and quantum physics? Child's play, really!

Since he started school, he had only got A on every subject and was completely bored.

After the first week, his teacher asked him if he could see his guardians, and Harry had gone to Aunt Petunia.

The woman already hid his good mark from his husband, and while Vernon would hear things from Dudley if the black-haired boy went in a superior class, he wouldn't care if his nephew had to stay late every evening for "detentions".

The teacher was really enthusiastic about Harry's abilities and had coaxed him into spending is gained time in the local library and sometimes they would even attend conventions that the teacher would happily pay for, saying it was his honour to have such a prodigy with him.

The green eyed-boy would soak all the information and would later be able to debate it with scientists who worked on the subject for all their life and stand his ground.

They called him Harry-James Lilyson, the silver tongue.

But he was not just a science genius.

He found himself able to understand, speak and write every language as if it was English, words rolling off his tongue flawlessly, his hand forming perfect letters with quick efficiency.

He also liked etiquette, dance, music and politics, but really, his favourite subject was undoubtfully mythology.

He found himself deeply engrossed by the tale of Asgardian gods, blue Jotun and how the worlds were held by Yggdrasil, the world tree.

He read books after books on Odin, Frigga, Thor and Loki mostly. Strangely, he always prefered the text who spoke about the later, perhaps because of the magic, the seidr he was capable of using and the pranks he loved to pull on people.

However, he found simply prosperous the history about his children. What, really?

A giant wolf, an Earth-sized snake, an undead girl who ruled Death's kingdom and an eight-legged horse.

What's more? A giant, flamming chicken able to teleport?

Sometimes, he would find himself frowning down at a passage he just read, fighting the urge to correct the things because it just looked so WRONG, and Harry had to close the book before he decided to rip the page and throw it in the fire.

When he would come home from his "detention" in the library, Vernon would immediately shut him in the cupboard without food, saying that his behaviour was creating gossips in the neighbourhood.

In truth, Harry was sure the excuse of a man was just looking for an excuse not to feed him.

Fortunately for the child, his aunt would always bring him something to eat in the dark of night, along with water.

Did the woman love him?

Harry didn't know and didn't really cared, unlike most children his age he didn't crave the attention and love of his guardian.

He felt oddly mature about the about the whole thing. It wasn't exactly that he didn't want people to respect him, love him or whatever, but it was like his heart was dead.

He just felt cold inside.

Cold as Ice.

* * *

Third, strange things kept happening around him. One day he was invisible, the other he was teleporting on the roof of the school, every day he would make something new and special happen, just for him to see.

Harry didn't think anyone could see the power, the magic, like he could. It was everywhere, flowing in the plants, in the air and in some people too. Sometime, he would find a man or a woman with a strong aura, but most of the time, the power was faint, unusable, like in Aunt Petunia or in Mrs Figgs.

It was actually a lot like how the seidr was supposedly everywhere in Yggdrasil in the North Mythology, and Harry had started calling it seidr in himself.

When he did so, it brought forth questions:

Could he do everything the seidr user could do? Could he shape-shift and make illusion at will. Be there and at the other side of the globe at the same time.

For the genius child, it was just another knowledge he needed to master.

He began to plunge himself into self-study, trying to figure how his power worked.

At first, it was incredibly slow, and he was getting more and more frustrated and interested.

He could see the magic in people and object but not his own.

As he didn't know what he was dealing with, he couldn't find a way to harvest it yet.

When he began, the first thought that the way to control his seidr would be his emotions, since every time he had managed to make magical things happen eas when he was either feeling very sad, angry or happy.

However, even if his magic was flaring against his skin, raging against his fingers like fire, Harry didn't let it out. Even if the magic was beautiful and destructive, he knew he wouldn't be able to wield it like that just yet.

So he tried it the other way.

He numbed everything in him and he felt as he was frozen. Everything was clear, cold, clinical, there wasn't any parasite thought or unwanted feelings.

Harry felt once again the magic against his skin, but this time it was cold, like cool water, and he felt in control for the first time, a rose of ice rising from his open palm, alight with a strange kind of fire.

Later, he managed to put his magic all over his skin and bend it with his will, making him look like anyone he wanted or create a humanoid form and make it move and look as he wants.

Everyday week, every day, he would work his magic and make wonders.

Yet, his heart only grew colder.

* * *

But if someone were to ask Harry what was the strangest things about him, he could instantly answer that it was the dreams:

Every night, he would live in the skin of a man with long black hair and emerald eyes just like his own. Some people called him Loki, others Salazar and he even saw some memories where he was hailed as Merlin.

He would visit cities of gold, lands of ice, castles of rock and green forests.

Harry would live in their skin and learn their magic, practising it when he would wake up.

Sometime he would wake up with a smile, others with tears in his eyes and he had already woken with the urge to scream from anger or pain.

There were other dreams too. Dreams where he would live the mortal life of a black-haired orphan with crimson eyes. The child was intelligent and calculating, but unlike Harry, he used his emotion, his hate, to fuel his magic.

Tom, as the green-eyed boy learned, wasn't evil as the other people in his memories though.

He just wanted to make the world a better place for those like him, but all his ideas were rejected because an old man hadn't cared enough to look twice before making a judgement.

He had immediately become suspicious of the boy, taking his fear for madness, his rightful bitterness for unreasonable hate and his inner darkness, created by his broken childhood, for the beginning of evil.

Tom Riddle had wanted to teach, to stay forever in the place he considered home, instead of that he had been thrown away by society because of things he said as a child.

Sometimes, Harry wondered where was the man, turned dark Lord now.

Was he dead? Was he in hiding, biding is time?

But he already knew all that. Tom Riddle was in his head.

* * *

It would be lying to say that he knew a lot of things about how the other got there.

No, in truth, Harry had just seen him a few time in his mind, lurking around with furrowed brows, but whenever the green-eyed child tried to make contact, the man disappeared in a corner of his mind.

He was curious, of course, but there wasn't a lot of things he could do about that when he could only make out Tom's lean silhouette before he left.

But the thing truly interesting was his seidr :

Unlike Harry's, which was calm, golden and green, the other's was a pitch black with red flowing through it, flaring furiously everywhere around him.

It felt betrayed, angry and bitter and yet it was beautiful in its own right.

But when his seidr was a blazing inferno, hot as fire, Harry's was only getting colder, yet colder.

* * *

Petunia knew her nephew wasn't a normal boy, even stranger than her dead sister had ever been.

She had known since she first saw him, sleeping on the ground behind her door.

He had been too pale, his hair too dark, his eyes too green and intelligent. He was a child, not even a two years old and yet he felt ancient and powerful.

And so she tried, not for the strange power the child was showing, but for the sake of her dead sister, she tried reasoning with Vernon :

"No, we can't put him in the cupboard! What if THEY see?!"

At the beginning, her husband agreed and the child was left in the kitchen, not the best place for a child but still better, However, after a year without a single sign from the magical world, the cupboard under the stairs became little Harry Potter's room.

Then he has decided to "beat the freakiness" out of him. She was horrified.

She loved her husband, but beat a child?!

So once more, she tried keeping him at bay, but it was for nothing.

Whatever she said, Vernon would turn it in his favour or wave it away :

"They haven't checked on him for more than one year! They won't do it now!"

"If the boy babble to our neighbours, we'll just say he's a pathological liar!"

"So what if someone sees he's hurt?! We'll just tell he's a delinquent who keeps running into troubles!"

And when he began beating her nephew, she said nothing, did nothing.

But surely someone would notice, right? How could a four-year-old be a delinquent? Why was no one trying to find out?

It was just excuses really, trying to keep a good conscience.

When he wasn't allowed to eat, she would bring him food and water, when he was hurt, she would help him clean his wounds or put his bones right, but it was for nothing if she didn't do a single thing to stop the reason.

And yet, she stilled loved him, and that was the problem:

She loved her Duddy, she loved Vernon but she also loved Harry.

In a perfect world, she would have hated him like her husband, not caring about his well being, but in this reality, she did care and it hurt to see a child grow cold, not showing his hurt, not showing his emotion, keeping everything inside.

Petunia knew her nephew wasn't a normal boy.

He wouldn't complain about his chores, wouldn't cry when hurt, wouldn't care if she did nothing for him.

He would just look at her with a smile, an empty smile that she couldn't help but find so sad, his green eyes showing nothing, like deep under the ice.

* * *

Vernon Dursley knew the freak wasn't a normal boy, wasn't even human perhaps.

He never cared for him, never loved him, never wanted him to feel at home.

No really, Petunia's nephew, the son of her whore sister, was just a dead weight leeching on their family.

And they gave him money to care for him! As if he would spare good things on the freak when he had his wonderful little Dudley, the smartest, most beautiful and greatest little boy he ever saw, so much better than the boy.

So Vernon didn't have any remorse making the monster sleep under the stairs, skip dinner or wear hand me down even when he could have easily filled his needs with half the money he got.

He tried helping though:

Petunia would be happy if he managed to beat the magic out of the boy right? He would finally be normal and perhaps he would stop being a shame for their family.

And let's not forget: beating the freak was a wonderful stress reliever:

Al the problem he had in his day, like how his new associate wasn't moved by his threat and refused to obey him or how he didn't manage to get a contract, everything would go away when he would hear the satisfying snap of the freak's bones.

He would take him out of his cupboard, pushing him head first into the kitchen's floor while closing the door with his other hand.

Why the kitchen? Well, it was really the perfect place:

It was easy to clean, so the freak could make his blood disappears easily, it could be closed and it has curtains, so no one could think that he was abusing his nephew, and it was near the cupboard, so he didn't have to make too much effort to throw the boy in the room.

It couldn't have been better.

Usually, he would take the freak in their little... session once a week or more, changing if he was particularly angered or bored and he would generally make sure the freak was recognisable after.

Generally, that was it.

Because today, Vernon Dursley was not going to be nice.

He had had a bad day, with his stupid, rebelling secretary, wanting to find a "new, better job", noticing that the freak's money was already spent earlier that week and he couldn't buy some new toys for his son and most of all, he just learned by Dudley that the freak had changed his mark at school and was cheating on his precious son.

For everything, the freak was going to hurt, he would make him pay.

He would kill the freak tonight.

* * *

"Vernon, you can't do that!"

BLAM

"DON'T TELL WHAT I CAN DO IN MY HOME WOMAN!" yelled Vernon, his face purple.

Her husband had actually raised his hand on her.

Shocked, she stood there, in the kitchen, too dazed to realise that Vernon still hadn't stopped beating her nephew, even when he had stopped moving, a pound of blood forming under his head.

"I'LL KILL YOU FREAK!"

It woke her up, finally feeling her cheek burns from the pain, and she realised that her husband was trying to kill her nephew, a little boy of six, the blood of her blood.

And for now, she couldn't feel love anymore, just rage and sorrow.

So she took the nearest thing and brought it down on Vernon's head.

The frying pan impacted with a gong.

* * *

She couldn't remember what happened next, everything was a blur.

She thought she called the police, but she couldn't be sure.

Still, now she was here, at her nephew bedside in a hospital, his face pale while doctors desperately tried to save him.

"A chance he isn't dead yet," said one, "they are signs of prolonged abuse," said another.

She wants to say that she didn't know but she can't bring herself to lie.

Vernon's going to face the tribunal soon, Dudley is sitting next to her, the six-year-old not understanding what's happening and Harry is still on his hospital bed, looking too small, too thin in the white sheets.

So she waits, for hours, for days, perhaps for weeks, the hospital put her a bed next to Harry's and she only moves to care for Dudley or herself.

She doesn't even go to the tribunal, it's not important, they already have all the proofs.

Vernon is given 20 years in prison for abuse of a minor, misuse of founds, assaults on his secretary ( Petunia can't even bring herself to be surprised) and attempted murder.

She's not happy, but she's not really sad. She understood that her love was dead but somehow it still hurt. At least, Dudley and Harry will be major when he's out of prison.

* * *

Dudley doesn't understand why he can't see his dad again.

The madam from the hospital say that he was a bad man and his mum don't say anything, she just stares silently at the freak (Harry she insists), waiting for something.

Why doesn't he just wake up? He's boring and his mum is sad because of him! Does he do that on purpose? If dad was there he would take care of him!

Dudley threw one tantrum, then two, but his mum wouldn't stop staying with the boy, and where's his dad?

So now he just stares at the freak too, waiting for the universe to unravel, or something.

* * *

Everything is dark.

"I am dead" ask Harry to himself.

He can't be sure, but somehow he always sought that there was at least... something when you died, not just an empty void to starre in for all eternity.

'Is someone there?"

Why did he ask? Vernon killed him, or put him into a coma, that's it, so who would answer his cries.

"Yes," said a voice.

The child turned around to face a tall man with dark hair and red eyes.

"Tom." he greeted.

The other said nothing, there is nothing to say, they just stood, perfectly still, looking at nothing and waiting, waiting for something to finally happen.

"You should wake up now. Your... Aunt is waiting."

Harry just smiled, it was not a happy smile but neither was it sad, it just was.

"I guess I do have to go back, hmm?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"Farewell Harry Potter..."

Emerald eyes snapped open.

* * *

So here's the chapter!

I guess it's perhaps a bit strange at the end, with all the point change of point of view... er...

*cough awkwardly*

Still, I hope you liked it!

In the next chapter, Harry and his relatives move out of Britain and a new, important character meet Harry.

Happy new year, and don't forget, reviews are the author chocolate! Or coffee! or really, whatever you live on xD


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